


Footnotes in History

by panther



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panther/pseuds/panther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose was never her own person, just the daughter of others, a member of that family, a footnote in history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footnotes in History

The bottom of the bottle has not told her anything that will change her world or give her a sudden epiphany but she had never really expected it to. It had dimmed the screaming in her mind though and given her the courage to be reckless and set the job contract she had been offered on fire as she sipped on the whiskey slowly and let the time pass. Twenty-five years old and being offered the fast route she had not earned is the life of Rose Weasley. Ron Weasley is her father, Hermione Granger Weasley is her mother and wasn’t that a most wonderful thing? It had been before Rose understood what it was going to mean for her.

When she first left Hogwarts she was used to people exclaiming and trying to size her up against her parents and with her mother’s school records that alone had been hard enough but when she tries to get into work it only gets worse. At first she had been delighted to get the job at the Ministry of Magic but that was before she realised why she had been given it. It had nothing to do with her exam results, work experience, or anything she had personally done except be born to the family she belonged to.

She quit after six months.

The bottle slips from her grasp as she stretches out on the couch and lets the daze come over her. Her mother had never forgiven her for throwing away the job she had when she was eighteen and Rose had never regretted it. Every job after that had always been the same. _You’re a Weasley? Ron’s daughter? I knew your father, mother, uncle, had your family owl fall into my cornflakes at breakfast once._ None of it mattered. No one saw her, only the family she came from and the people who died and the things that they did. The only thing that surprises Rose anymore is that her family still don’t get why it bugs her.

Vaguely, in her drunken stupor, she remembers telling Albus once, ‘ _Don’t you get it Al? We are footnotes on history book pages. Never the paragraph that teaches anyone anything and never the quote they remember. We are just a reference to something more important, the details that complete the picture of someone else’s life_ ’, and nothing about that had really changed.

Her living is earned othe streets now. Customers don’t care about how her parents broke into Gringotts or that her uncle is the famous Harry Potter, they just care about how good she is at sucking cock and if they will let them fuck her arse. Sex is simple and it doesn’t need words, only actions. Sleep threatens to take her as she glances up at the clock and realises it is 9am and time she gets to sleep so she can get up for work later. The gutter seems like the perfect place for her in a sad and ironic way she thinks to herself, because she was always at the bottom. Either it was the bottom of the page as a footnote of someone else’s achievements where she felt nothing resembling satisfaction or the bottom of society where she could at least tell herself she made people happy. The footnotes could now say ‘ _Rose Weasley, daughter of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger Weasley, occupation: escort_ ’ and that would be the polite way to put it. It was a, in her eyes, deserved fuck you to the parents who had done nothing to get her away from it all and if she was to remain a footnote, at least that was a footnote worth reading.

Rose feels it is ok to feel bitter when you never really had a chance to screw up in the first place.


End file.
